


Duties Unsought

by GreyFantasies (AthenaHart)



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:28:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23192425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AthenaHart/pseuds/GreyFantasies
Summary: WoL becomes a Lightwarden. Alternate ShB ending.
Relationships: Aymeric de Borel/Warrior of Light
Kudos: 31





	Duties Unsought

The Light rampages within you, blinding your vision and swelling within your bones. You feel your skin stretching, straining, ripping, like a beast clawing at the walls of a cell. Vauthry was the final limit. You had fought and fought and fought, and now your body betrayed you, collapsing to the floor. 

Lyna’s words come back to you.

_“We’ve come so far—so_ godsdamned _far! I could have sworn the end was in sight. And now… Now they will never see it.”_

How true those words feel at this moment. You had been summoned here as the great Warrior of Light, traveling time and space to save a broken world. You had done everything that was asked of you, slain every Lightwarden. This was the reward? To become a Sin Eater? The irony was not lost on you.

Knowing you would never see your friends on the Source again almost hurt more than knowing you weren’t given a choice in the matter. You had been summoned and the Scion’s souls were stolen from their bodies at the climax of the war. No one here was ever presented the privilege of choice. Now they must watch on as their final hope of redemption become their final foe.

Anger surged within you, momentarily overcoming the Light, and they fought like two wolves snapping at the other’s neck. In that brief moment of reprieve, you rose. 

A hooded figure entered the horizon. The Exarch. The source of both your joys and your woes. It was time to make your own choice for once.

_Do something. Help them._ You heard the cries of the Scions behind you.

Your hand raised, Light searing your fingertips and pulsating through your veins. Reclaim your life. Reclaim your choice. Reclaim the opportunity to say Goodbye. Reclaim the privacy of death with those you cherish most in this life.

_“If I must slay my dearest friend to defeat my direst foe, I will not flinch from my duty!”_

You knew exactly who had the integrity to end this. Not a man who would throw their life away for yours, but a man who respected his charge in life and saw you as equal. Not a man who beheld you on a pedastal—one that you didn’t want to be placed on, not even once.

_What are you doing?_ The Exarch looks at you with panic and agony. _Please don’t—_

The spell is cast.

Stars and eons slip by as you throttle through the void between worlds. Familiar faces and greet you and pass by as quickly as they had come. Just like the first time, however, you hear a phrase carved inside your own heart.

_“A smile better suits a hero.”_

There is no hero here. Only a monster slithering to a distant cave. Self-doubt and cowardice make their way into your thoughts.

* * *

The calidity of the Light rampant through your veins sizzles at the snowflakes soaking into your skin. It’s strange how the Light feels like nothing—as if your entire body is numb, one moment the heat flourishes and the next a sodden cold and emptiness takes place.

You struggle to find your feet as you clutch onto the metal guarding of the Aetheryte. The clamoring of Temple Knights steals your thoughts away from the pain and reminds you of your purpose.

“The Vault,” you manage to say before growing weak again. The Knights murmur between their selves whether the Warrior of Light should be going to the Vault or to the infirmary, but collectively decide there must be a purpose to the Vault. If you could laugh you would.

The only purpose of the Vault is to die in peace. You realize that you’ve given up hope. There is only Light now. 

Ishgardians part in the streets so that your effervescent decaying body can be carried swiftly to the Vault. The rhythmic beat of boots against the avenue whispers to you like a lullaby. Everything glows white for you, the snowflakes even more so. Visions of stone statuesque knights towering and watching over your procession blur around you.

“The top,” you say to the knight carrying you. The tallest tower will be the safest place for Ishgard now.

The unit of Temple Knights finally reaches the top of the Vault, the very same place you battled Thordan, and the sky is once again painted orange and red. The knight carrying you gently places you to the floor and your hot cheek kisses the cool stone beneath you. At least the final views of life are beautiful.

“Go. Now.” The knights leave bemused and concerned for their Warrior of Light.

As if the raging beast inside knows that you are finally alone, you shudder, back cracking, bones snapping. Agony tears through your body like a riptide and you feel your soul sunder, heart shatter, spine splintering. 

“Halone’s Fury…”

Ah. Finally, the pawn has arrived at the final act. 

Ser Aymeric de Borel kneels beside you and tries to lift you, but this is not why you lured him here. You push him away and struggle to your feet alone. The Light is so intense…

“What has happened in your absence?” asks the Lord Commander.

“Where is Estinien?” you manage to chew out.

“He is away in Garlemald. Lucia watches over the city for me. When I heard the Warrior of Light had returned to Ishgard positively glowing, I didn’t quite expect…”

His worried expression falters. He knows something is wrong. He knows the city is in danger. He knows that you have brought the danger—nay, you are the danger.

“Once,” you cough and white splatters onto the ground, “you said that you would not flinch from your duty no matter the foe.”

“Yes. I said that to Hraesvelgr. Nidhogg had taken onto Estinien’s flesh,” Aymeric replied.

“Do you still stand by that statement?” you ask.

A bitter look of sorrow fused with anguish fell upon Aymeric’s face. 

“I am not wont to slaughter dear friends. If they are a threat to Ishgard, however… Yes, it is my duty to protect the innocent lives below us.”

“Good,” was all you managed to reply before the Light rippled through you and seared into your every fiber of being.

* * *

The power of five Lightwardens was always going to create a monster. Throw in the Warrior of Light to the mix and a behemoth of light constitutes itself from the flesh.

Firstly, the light poured through the mouth like a dam flowing freely over a precipice. Then the head turned upward toward the heavens, pillars of light bursting through the eyes. Angelic wings spread and jutted from the ears and crown. Finally, the skin turned white and waxy, golden circles emblazed onto the body, The final form was complete.

Aymeric had never beheld such a beast. He had fought dragons, yes, but if this monster was the moon then the dragons he had fought could only be compared to a distant star. His heart wrenched and folded inwards.

Why had his friend brought this plague to his doorstep? Why did their request of mercy feel like a betrayal? Why was he chosen of all the Scions and all the leaders? Did the Warrior of Light not care about Aymeric? After all, had he not restored them to full health after their failed battle with Zenos? 

It was then he realized. Aymeric did care. The Warrior of Light knew this. That is why they came to him. 

_I will not flinch from my duty!_ This is what Aymeric had said to convince Hraesvelgr of his plight. He had spoken with passion and promise to defeat Estinien if it meant saving his people from peril. The Warrior of Light had been there, too. They knew the truth of it all, and they knew that Aymeric would follow through on that pledge.

The Lord Commander unsheathed his sword, a single teardrop splattering against the metal. 

  
  



End file.
